Harry Potter And The Enlightening Experience
by RTVfan
Summary: Harry wakes up to find himself in an alternate universe where there is no Voldemort. Suffice to say, some people have no luck.
1. Chapter 1

Summery: Harry wakes up to find himself in an alternate universe where there is no Voldemort. Suffice to say, some people have no luck.

A/N: Yes, I am completely ripping off the title from "Draco Malfoy And The Enlightening Experience" over at Twisting The Hellmouth. It was such a good genre fic that I decided to borrow the title. I mean no disrespect by this, JoeHundredaire. If anything, this is an homage.

Timeline: Year 6. Notice how I didn't say "Half-Blood Prince".

**Harry Potter And The Enlightening Experience**

"W-w-where's my glasses?" asked Harry Potter as he fumbled about with his hands trying to find them on the nightstand next to his bed. Oh, there they are. Harry put them on and then blinked a few times, his eyes just getting used to the light of the daytime sun. Across from Harry's bed was a window which opened up to a gorgeous loch, and the sunlight reflected directly off of it into the area where he slept. Reaching for the string, Harry unleashed the dark crimson curtains to get a view of it. _It's another beautiful day at Hogwarts. Late morning. Everyone's probably at breakfast already._

Of course, Harry was kidding himself. Although the sun was out, and it did reflect beautifully into the sixth year dormitories, there was little to celebrate right now. Across the British Isles, there were frequent, almost daily, reports about dementor and werewolf attacks upon wizards and muggles alike. Earlier in the year, Katie Bell had almost died when she accidentally touched a cursed artifact. Ron was poisoned. Almost died. Draco Malfoy got the better end of the Sectrumsempra spell, leaving the young heir to the Malfoy trust with deep gashes all over his body, courtesy of Harry no less who was only defending himself from getting tortured by Draco(Harry hadn't known what the spell in he found in his book actually did until he tried it out). Dumbledore's blackened hand was getting worse, looking as if it was decaying rapidly and about to fall off at any minute. He also seemed more wistful than usual, which Harry associated with the thought that he might be dying. And Snape was a bigger arsehole than ever. All signs of Tom Riddle getting closer to beating the drums of war. Except for Snape being an arsehole...maybe.

He was also thinking impure thoughts about Ginny, his best friends little sister. Best not to mention that to either of them.

Deciding to catch a bit of breakfast before his first class, Harry unraveled himself from his heavy and warm yet comfortable blankets...and then immediately put them back on. Covering his mouth in shock, his eyes gone big, Harry could of swore that he saw a girls torso under the blankets. The torso was thin, yet curvy, with rounded hips flaring out, and a flat washboard stomach. The breasts were big, but not too big like the way you see on famous muggle women in their muggle gossip rags. They were just right, and they(as well as her private parts) were supported by pretty aqua blue bikini underwear. As he was cowering in shock, wondering who could have done this, his right forearm began to feel an itchy feeling. His eyes creeping rightward, he discovered that the source of the irritation was a strand of shiny, raven black hair. Suddenly grabbing the back of his head, Harry moaned silently in annoyance that indeed, his hair had grown longer. So much longer, in fact, that he was pulling on it just by laying down. It wasn't a wig. Crap. _Alright, check the face_. No stubble. Hell, it felt smoother than when he was twelve. _What about my arms? _Lifting them both out of the bed, Harry saw that they looked like two flesh colored sticks, with lots of tone, but no muscle to them. His arms had never looked so frail since he'd been starved at the Dursley's. Crap. Crap. Crap. Finally summoning the courage to remove the covers again, Harry saw that the girl's torso was still there as well as her legs, in all their toned glory. Harry's torso and legs, meanwhile, was nowhere to be found. But wait a minute...those legs...that torso...they're both connected to him! Suddenly looking around his bedside curtains in paranoia, just to check if anyone was still inside the dorm, Harry got up and minced towards his school trunk, which had practically everything of value to him inside. Opening it revealed a mirror, which reflected upon the lovely face of a sixteen year old girl. Harry swore that if he ever had a twin sister, this is what she would look like. Lifting up the curtain of black fringe which hid her forehead, Harry indeed saw the lightening shaped scar on her forehead. It was his scar. It was his forehead. Her forehead. Her scar.

Harry was forced to accept the fact that he now looked like a girl. But who would do this! Was it Fred and George? No, they already left Hogwarts. McGonagall? Why the devil would she do _this _to an unsuspecting student? Snape? But how did he get in here? Would he be so low to punish his most hated student with gender dysphoria? Or was it one of Big V's supporters? Or even Big V himself? No, that didn't make sense either. So many questions. So many possibilities! Who would want to turn Harry Potter female? Harry's mind raced as he plopped near the trunk on his bum, which by the way had grown a couple of sizes, and began to close his eyes to meditate on exactly this question. Suddenly(!), the front door opened.

"Harriet! Veronica asked me to come get you because she said she didn't want to miss breakfast. You know how hungry she gets. I swear, that girl has the best metabolism I've ever seen...Harriet? Why are you cowering on the floor like that?"

Harry looked up, and saw one of his best friends, Hermione Granger, looking down worryingly on his new form. Oh Merlin, she called him Harriet. Was he going crazy, or was the world going crazy?

"Bad dream is all", said Harry cryptically.

"Bad dream? Was it about the Dursleys?"

Harry shook his head.

"Well, who then?"

Harry Potter had gone through a lot in his life. He'd seen a lot too. At age eleven, after being locked inside a tiny cupboard since he was five by an abusive fat idiot with a walrus mustache, he was taken away from there and introduced to a world filled with magic. Not the stage magic you see at parties or in Las Vegas. Real magic. He met friends for the first time in his life. Actual friends, who had his back and were as thick as thieves. Later on in the school year, he had to face down a teacher who had been possessed by the soul of an evil warlock. In his second year, he saw Hermione transform into a furry. He also escaped from a family of giant spiders, only to be saved by a sentient car roaming it's way through the woods. In his third year, he time traveled for the first(and so far only) time to break his doting godfather out of prison, who the rest of the world thought was a spree killer. In his fourth year, he nearly got killed himself by a dragon, and also witnessed the first death of the upcoming war committed by a resurrected version of said evil warlock from his first year.. He and Cedric Diggory weren't particularly close, being from different houses, but Harry learned that Cedric was an honourable and strong young man who he WOULD have been friends had he had the chance. In his fifth year, his cousin nearly got his soul sucked out of his body by something that even the finest minds of the Wizarding World don't yet fully understand, his other friend's dad nearly got killed by a giant snake, and his godfather fell to his death inside a veil of mystery. And now here he was, six years later, going through all that crap and MUCH more on top of the usual school shit like uncaring teachers and bullies who just won't leave you alone. This though, this took the top spot. It wasn't as scary as seeing Cedric or his Sirius die, but it was far more traumatizing. It was like his entire life was being taken away from him. And now Hermione comes up into the boys dormitories to call him 'Harriet'.

"It was about me" he said, hating how feminine and light his voice sounded.

Hermione stepped into Harry's "bedroom", and bent down to cup his chin.

"You can tell me, Harriet. Please, don't hide anything. We're friends, you can trust me."

Sighing, Harry spoke up.

"I woke like this, as a girl. I don't remember being a girl. You're calling me Harriet, but my name is Harry. Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived. And I don't know who Veronica is, but I DO know a Ron Weasley. He has red hair and freckles. Don't tell me Veronica has red hair and freckles."

"She does."

"Oh boy" sighed Harry, laying his head back on the thick curtains.

"The Boy Who Lived? Is that your nickname?"

"Yeah. Not but choice, though. It's what everyone calls me for defeating Voldemort."

"Who?"

"Voldemort. You-Know-Who? He Who Must Not Be Named?"

"I've never heard of him, Harri_._ What is he, a terrorist of some kind?"

Harry nodded. "The worst Dark Wizard in history, next to Grindelwald."

"Well, I've heard of Gemma Grindelwald the wicked witch that Dumbledore defeated in the 1940's. I've never heard of Voldemort. Harri, I'm going to ask you a question, and I don't want you to get offended. Do you think that someone might have tampered with your mind?"

"I don't know. I just woke up like this. Who am I? You think I'm someone named Harriet! Maybe I'm in an alternate universe or something."

"Yeah, maybe. Harri, come here..."

Hermione embraced Harry in a hug, the younger girl obviously going through some kind of adjustment disorder that she either didn't understand or didn't want to talk with her in full about. Hermione pulled out her wand, pointed it behind Harri's head, and whispered a few words.

Harry's mind was suddenly elsewhere, walking down a small corridor that looks like the corridor on the Hogwarts Express. His POV then walks into a room where there are two young girls, both of about eleven years old. They were laughing and talking while eating candy of various sorts. One of them was a redhead who looked exactly like Ginny did at that age, except this girl was a little taller. The shorter girl had long black hair in braids, and had taped up black framed glasses on her face. Her fringe was hiding it, but Harry knew that under it lay the lightening shaped scar that he had. His POV started to speak up, seeing the redheaded girl's wand and demanding to see a demonstration of magic. The redhead, who Harry guessed must have been this 'Veronica' and also a female doppelgänger for Ron just as the girl on the right was a distaff doppelgänger for himself, tried out a spell to turn her pet rat's fur yellow, but failed embarrassingly at it. Then Harry's POV sat down across from the two girls, talking about what Hogwarts house was the best to go into. It was Hermione's voice. She was saying that while Gryffindor or Ravenclaw sounded like the best choices for her, Dumbledore was a Slytherin, so now she didn't know what to believe. The redheaded girl's family were apparently all Gryffindor's, just as Ron's family were.

Shortly later on, Pansy Parkinson and Micilent Bulstrode both entered the compartment, trailing a svelte girl with platinum blonde hair. Harry guessed that this must be Female!Draco. The blonde girl spoke up to the black haired girl, Harriet Potter, and offered to be allies with her in exchange for abandoning these two "mudbloods" and joining Slytherin. Harriet told Calista(F!Draco's name, apparently) to shove off. Calista's eyes narrowed into a death glare, and then ordered Pansy and Milicent to rough up Veronica and Hermione. Pansy, of course, was a pansy, but Milicent grabbed Veronica by her shirt collar and was about to punch her in the face until she got bit by Veronica's pet rat. Harry knew that Scabbers was really Peter Pettigrew, the traitorous bastard that was directly for his mum and dad getting killed, but was glad that he bit Milicent at the moment. The two mean girls ran out of the compartment, but Calista Malfoy waited just long enough to make an oath that her and Harriet were now enemies for life. Then the dream ended, and Harry found himself back in the sixth year dormitories.

"Did any of that ring a bell?" asked Hermione.

"A little, but I remember it differently. I was a boy, and so was Ron...Veronica, I mean. You were a girl, but not Malfoy. And Pansy and Milicent weren't there with Malfoy, it was two other Slytherin guys named Crabbe and Goyle."

Hermione was aware of gender dysphoria and what it did, so she was unprepared for someone, especially so close to her like Harriet, to suddenly become overwhelmed with it. Hermione knew that it didn't work that way. People with the disorder show it at a very young age. Harriet had never given any hints or signs in the past that she thought that she was supposed to be born male, and the fact that Harriet had remembered specific events differently was a clue that something was wrong with her mind, or...something else. It wasn't out of the question to Hermione that Harriet had been magically brainwashed by the Obliviation Charm. Someone could have done it at Hogwarts easily...but who? Snape?"

"Harri, did Professor Snape ever do anything to you?"

"...Yes. I studied Occulmency with him last year. I don't think that he's responsible though."

"Harri, you ARE aware that only females can do magic, right?"

Harry, who had so far been trying his best to ignore Hermione and focus on the problem internally, his own way, now looked straight into her eyes.

"No. Boys can do magic! In fact, the most powerful magic users have traditionally been men, starting with Merlin."

"Harri, Merlin was the LAST male wizard. King Arthur asked for Merlin to end the magic line with him, sealing it off forever from this realm when he died. But Merlin only cast the spell to seal off magic among human _men_. He must have forgotten to shut it off to women too."

"Oh Merlin! Oh Merlin!"

"Harriet Potter! You're going through some kind of problem, but we can work through it. You can trust me, Harri. Please, let's just have breakfast first though. I can hear Veronica right now..."

"Hurry up you two!" boomed the voice from the common room.

"That's what I wanted to do. Then I woke up like...like this."

Hermione held Harriet's hand in hers, and tried her best to radiate good vibes from it to Harriet.

"I'll wait for you downstairs, Harriet."

She left, walking down the stairs back into the Gryffindor commons. Harry could hear "Veronica" still complaining, asking where Harriet was, and Hermione breaking the news to her gently. Harry took a deep breath.

Where was he?


	2. Chapter 2

**Harry Potter And The Enlightening Experience**

**Chapter 2**

"What do you mean she had a nightmare?"

"Veronica, she's going through something personal right now. People experience panic attacks and need to be alone sometimes. She'll be down when she's ready."

"Pfft. Fine. BYE HARRIET!" shouted Veronica back upstairs.

"BYE!" shouted Harry, seeming more and more like a mentally ill girl who had had delusions of being a boy wizard all her life.

The door down stairs shut into it's frame, and Harry took a quick sigh.

Really, where was he?

Opening his trunk again for any clues, he discovered all of his old schoolwork, every piece of parchment signed "Harriet Potter" under the signature line. All of the homework answers as well as the type of language used for essays was virtually identical to his own wordings. Potions homework was often graffitied by snide remarks from Professor Snape, criticizing him(or her...) for seemingly arbitrary failures such as not doing something fast enough or not knowing a useless piece of information only tangentially related to the potion they were making that day. So Snape, as a woman, was just as awful in this world as s/he was in the real one. Great to hear...

Letters from "Veronica" that "Harriet" had received in years past and collected were all here as were Hermione's letters, and all of Veronica's letters were also virtually identical to Ron's style of handwriting. Some of the content itself was a little different, maybe a tad more gossipy and bitchy when talking about others, but all in all still recognizably Ron. Hermione's letters hadn't changed one bit either, minus the changing of names, pronouns, and the noticeable absence of references to Voldemort or any of the death defying adventures they had been in.

_"So...so this means t-that nothing has happened to any of us_, whispered Harry. _None of us are special here."_

Now that Harry thought about it, did that mean the basilisk in the Chamber Of Secrets was still there? Did Professor Quirrell not become possessed and then die in his first year? Was the DADA position even cursed anymore without Voldemort's presence?

Was Sirius still alive?

_Oh my Merlin _thought Harry, rifling through to the bottom of the trunk for any letter's from her godfather.

For twenty long, agonizing minutes, he pored over every single letter for mentions of Sirius Black, but none were found. Harry knew that in his panicked state, he probably overlooked something that could relate to Sirius, but he was much too frenzied to do the same search all over again. Right now, he absentmindedly wished that he had a spell that could track for specific keywords or phrases in books and documents. That would sure save a lot of time.

Now he was beginning to sweat. It was working up towards being a hot day.

One of things Harry found interesting in the trunk was several old newspaper issues that were kept in mint condition.

For instance, on the November 1st, 1981 issue of _The Daily Prophet, _the headline ran:

_**YOUNG COUPLE KILLED IN ANTI-MAGIC HATE CRIME, INFANT DAUGHTER BRUTALIZED**_

_**by Morgan Crowley**_

The adjacent headline picture showed two people in their early twenties, Harriet's parents, smiling and holding each other in their arms by the River Thames. The female on the right looked exactly like Harriet did, albeit a few years older and with a more developed body. The man on the left must have been the distaff counterpart of Lily Evans. He was handsome, and seemed like a clean cut, good guy all around, with a hearty and innocent smile on his face. The text below the picture read:

_**Lyle Evans and Jamie Potter, both of Godric's Hollow, were married for less than two years.**_

Turning the page to A3 to continue the story, Harry was then struck by the name of his parents killer. It couldn't be...

"**Tom Riddle Jr., a muggle man with family roots going back to Safiya Slytherin, killed two magical citizens on Halloween night yesterday. Both were of Godric's Hollow, a neighborhood mostly inhabited by witches and their families. Lyle Evans and Jamie Potter died of gunshot wounds at 10:38 P.M from a .38 caliber revolver in what Aurors say was an anti-witch motivated crime spree dating back to "at least 1962" according to the Lead Auror Barty Crouch. Their one year old daughter, Harriet, also suffered from a deep, lightening shaped incision that Mr. Riddle made while cutting into her forehead with a kitchen knife. Sounds of Harriet's screams alerted neighbors to the house, where Mr. Riddle was then put under a binding spell after he had attempted to shoot at the concerned good Samaritans. Aurors apparated to the scene minutes later, and Mr. Riddle was apprehended. Mr. Evans and Ms. Potter were pronounced dead at the scene, and Harriet was taken to St. Mungos. Mr. Riddle has several other outstanding criminal acts on his record, having been responsible for multiple counts of fraud and assault on in both the magical and non-magical worlds. This pattern alludes to Mr. Riddle organizing a terror campaign against magical society and those of the muggle world in business relations with it.**

**Jamie Potter, a graduate of the Hogwarts School Of Witchcraft in 1977, married her sweetheart Lyle Evans in July of 1979. One year later, their daughter Harriet was born. Families of both Evans and Potter describe the two as "inseparable".**

"**They had their fights like any couple, but Lyle really loved her" claims Petunia Evans, Lyle's sister.**

"**They got married pretty young, and Lyle was severely adamant that they could beat the odds and make their marriage work out. Lyle said he had met Jamie at Dobell's Jazz Record Shop in London and they just starting talking and hit it off immediately. First, it was their taste in music, and then it was their taste in movies, and eventually they got to their taste in, well, private matters. Lyle said it was like a fairy tale."**

**Mr. Potter and Mrs. Potter, who wish to remain anonymous, made similar declarations.**

"**Jamie had somewhat of a rebellious streak. She was a real spitfire, a wild child, and I believe that Lyle helped her settle down and have focus on what she really wanted in life" according to Mr. Potter.**

"**...She and her friends had gotten into a lot of trouble at school, and her magic wand was almost broken because of it. She was a good student, but was she too restless to just sit by and be a Prefect or win Head Witch. I think the Missus and I hold the record for being the parents who most often had to go to Hogwarts to meet with the Headmistress about proper punishments at home..."**

"**I shall miss her forever, and damn that muggle Riddle to the pits of Hell. the lowest level of Dante's Inferno, forever" he angrily added.**

**Tom Riddle is currently being kept under solitary confinement in the holding cells of the Auror Department in the London Underground. He will face trial by the Wizengamot in December.**

Voldemort was still here, albeit in muggle form now. How ironic. But he still had enough psychopathy in him to murder two innocent young people in love and to facially disfigure a little baby. Harry felt a touch of dread come upon him. Fate, if it existed, seemed to inextricably link him to Tom Riddle and his parents dying...if of course, he was in an alternate universe. It was much more likely that he was mind modified as Hermione inferred. _Oh, why of all day's today? Stop, Harry...you sound whiny._

Harry observed the front page of the next newspaper, this one dated December 15th of the same year.

_**TOM RIDDLE SENTENCED TO LIFE IN AZKABAN**_

_**by Agatha **____**Báthory**_

**Tom Marvolo Riddle Jr, the man who last Halloween killed Jamie Potter and Lyle Evans in cold blood, and injured their one year old daughter, was sentenced today by a unanimous vote from the Wizengamot.. **

**Riddle will serve for life in Azkaban, the magical prison in the North Sea, in muggle grade solitary confinement. He will be separated from the rest of the population and not subject to the thrall of the dementor's whom guard the remainder of the prison.**

**Chief Warlock Almeda Dumbledore, who is also the Headmistress of the Hogwarts School Of Witchcraft , was the one who spoke on Mr. Riddle's behalf, requesting for Riddle to be kept in solitary confinement.**

"**Mr. Riddle showed definite signs of mental illness while he was being interrogated. A muggle psychologist was brought in, and he concluded that Tom Riddle displayed all of the symptoms required to diagnose him with Antisocial personality disorder."**

**Jamie Potter's parents, as well as Lyle Evans' family, spoke with tranquil fury and sadness at their children passing away at such a young age:**

...Harry couldn't read anymore, so he folded the two newspapers and put them back in the trunk. He started crying. In front of him laid a blown up color photograph of the man who took his parents away from him.

Tom Riddle was a very good looking man, even in his fifties. He resembled Timothy Dalton a little bit when the latter had played James Bond back in the 80's(occasionally, Harry had been able to sneak a movie or two in on the telly when Mrs. Figg had fallen asleep during babysits). His cold, rage filled glare was as strong as ever. Even without wizard powers, he was clearly insane, manipulative, and evil.

At the bottom of the page, written in Harry's handwriting: _TOM RIDDLE MUST DIE_.

Harry wept for five more minutes before mustering the courage to think about how all of this could be.

Obliviation, or some other mind modifying spell, was at the top of the list in his mind. But why put so much detail into this?

If Harry was in an alternate universe, on the other hand, what happened to the Harriet Potter of this universe? Was she in Harry's own body right now, going through the exact same problems as he was? Oh bollocks, that meant that she had to face a Tom Riddle with powers now, and unlike the Riddle that she knew, Voldemort was virtually immortal and armed to the teeth with magic spells that could take down an army.

Sighing for one last time, realizing that spending all morning up here would draw too much attention and would solve nothing, Harry decided to get dressed and try to find out what happened to him and everyone else as covertly as he could. He decided to get dressed.

The Hogwarts uniform was more or less identical to the one in Harry's world, minus the red and gold plaid skirts he found folded alongside his pants. Harry ignored those, however, still worried about his sanity as well as his manhood, and merely decided to wear the standard black trousers. Harry put them on, looping the black belt around his waist, sighing at how tight the trousers felt due to his big butt and hips. These pants had obviously been tailored to fit the contours of Harriet's body, but Harry hadn't ever been more self conscious before. The pressed white shirt was fine, smaller than Harry's normal shirt's, but otherwise gender-neutral. He put it on, buttoned it up, and then noticed that with his long hair stuck inside, he had to pull it all out. He did so, with the messy locks feeling like silky tentacles. Then he put his black robe on, once again having to pull his long hair out of it. Arrgh!

He picked up his wand from the nightstand and stepped out into the radiance of sunlight, finally the warm glow blasting into his face like that one time he had gotten to go to the beach with the Dursley's. Taking a brief side trip into the sixth year bathroom, Harry studied his new self, twirling around from back to front. Harriet Potter was one pretty girl. It was just a shame that he had to be her. Her scar was still present, and Harry wondered why it hadn't gone away yet. After all, it wasn't magical in nature. He would have to ask Hermione about it.

The massive dining tables in the Great Hall were decidedly less populated than in his world. Though a lot of the boys that Harry knew seemed to have been born girls in this "Alternate Universe" just like he had been(in the Gryffindor section, for instance, he could see distaff counterparts of Dean Thomas, with her hair in cornrows, talking to who probably amounted to Seamus Finnigan, who had very pale skin and pouty red lips), not all of them were. Neville Longbottom was missing among the other sixth years. Over at the Slytherin table, there were no signs at all of Crabbe and Goyle, Malfoy's knucklehead bodyguards. Also, there was no Blaise Zabini, nor Theodore Nott. In Hufflepuff, Cedric Diggory was nowhere to be found, despite the fact that he couldn't have been killed by Tom Riddle in this universe since Riddle wasn't a wizard here. There were also a few others, but Harry was bad with names so he just...

"Oops, sorry" he said, accidentally bumping into a short girl with a bob of curly blonde hair who had been leaving the Great Hall. "Who are you again?"

"Colleen Creevy, future photographer!"

The girl pulled a large, old fashioned camera out of her knapsack, and took a picture of Harriet.

"Your name's Harriet, right? I think we met once in my first year. I'm a year below you. You're a great Seeker, is what I've heard."

"Yeah, I am" said Harriet, wiping her forehead, not realizing how conceited she sounded. Colleen didn't seem to notice. With her other hand, she shook Colleen's.

"Well, see ya! I'll make sure to make a copy for your own photo album." Colleen then bounced out the room, reminding Harry a little bit of Luna Lovegood.

Four giant velvet clothes covered the right hand wall, representing likenesses of the Four Founders of Hogwarts. In red and gold, a strong and powerful woman named Godiva Gryffindor was portrayed. On the next poster, in yellow and black, was the stout and matronly Helga Hufflepuff. In blue and bronze was a true lady and a scholar named Rowena Ravenclaw. Finally, in silver and gold, was the likeness of Safiya Slytherin, looking just as powerful as Godiva Gryffindor, but with a dark, foreboding look in her eyes.

Harry couldn't believe it. Seeing was believing, but only barely.

At the end of the table, Gryffindor Prefects Veronica and Hermione were eating and chatting animatedly with one another, no different than any of their younger peers. Harry had to say with no small amount of hesitation that Veronica looked absolutely amazing, but he was sure that was because she looked so much like Ginny. Well, mostly, since she was more filled out than Ginny. Not fatter, but taller and thicker, and built like a budding amazon. Hermione looked exactly the same as she did in Harry's world, but since she wasn't romantically involved with Veronica(or was she? Harry was sure Hermione wasn't bi-curious or lesbian, but who knew how _much _things were different here...), the relationship between the two seemed more like two good friends from different backgrounds. Not BFF's, but in a way something more special than that. The bickering between them inadvertently made each of them stronger- from Veronica, Hermione learned how to open up and act human. From Hermione, Veronica, much like Ron, probably learned critical thinking skills when it came to things outside the world of Chess.

At the front of the Great Hall was the professor's table. Where Severus Snape normally was resided a curvacious yet oily looking woman who must be her. Hagrid's seat was empty, but that wasn't exactly a surprise since he often took long trips away from Hogwarts on occasion, or even just stayed in his hut to eat sometimes. Harry couldn't begin to imagine what he looked like as a woman. Then there was Dumbledore...

It was nearly impossible for Harry to accept that this was Dumbledore. It was probably the missing beard, Harry surmised. It was the elderly wizard's defining trait. But if Albus Dumbledore was the real life version of Gandalf, this Dumbledore was definitely the real life version of the Greek goddess Demeter. Mature looking, but no less beautiful, Almeda Guinevere Wulburga Elizabeth Dumbledore looked down kindly upon Harriet with that same all knowing twinkle in her eyes.

"Hey guys" said Harriet, glancing away from Dumbledore's gaze and sitting down next to Veronica. Just like Ron would, she talked with her mouth full of bacon.

"H(muffled)y, H(muffled)t." Swallowing her food half whole, she then talked correctly. "Hey Harriet. What was your bad dream about?"

Veronica than belched loudly.

Hermione looked over at Veronica with a death glare.

"What? All I asked was what it was about?"

"You have no tact whatsoever."

"It's fine" said Harry to Hermione. "I just had a bad dream is all. I was in a place I've never been before, and for some reason, I was a _boy_ in the dream."

"Oi, a boy? Maybe it has to do with Sigmund Freud, that muggle Professor Burbage talked about in Muggle Studies class. Weren't you talking about maybe going out with a boy back home?"

"No! It wasn't anything like that"

_Oh no. I have a boyfriend back home? Things can't get any worse..._

….

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

**Harry Potter And The Enlightening Experience**

**Chapter 3**

More plates of delicious food from the downstairs elves began to emerge on the table, which relived Harry quite a bit because he wasn't in the mood to talk anymore. He politely but firmly asked Hermione and Veronica if he could eat in peace and not be bothered, and thankfully, both of them respected his wishes. Harry then shoveled spoonfuls of cereal into his mouth as the two prefects chatted happily with one another.

In his moment of "solitude", Harry observed the Great Hall a little bit more deeply, glancing in particular towards the Slytherin table for a head full of platinum blonde hair. Calista Malfoy. If she was anything like her male counterpart(and Hermione's memories confirmed that she was), she was bound to approach Harry sooner or later to either harass him or try to provoke him into a fight. Or maybe not. Malfoy had been mostly quiet this year because, as Harry correctly guessed, he was being initiated into the Death Eaters. Taking up where his father left off. His mission, should he choose to accept it, was to kill Dumbledore before the end of the year. Malfoy was going in and out of the Room of Requirement in order to covertly smuggle in various ways to do this, such as a poisoned bottle of wine and a cursed necklace. _None_ of them had worked so far, though the mystery of DD's blackened hand still hung in the air like an awful stench. Harry had always known since their encounter in Madame Malkins all those years ago that Draco, that prat and a half, was eventually going to graduate from petty bullying to full fledged evil. That Harry might not only have to face Voldemort, but also the bratty scion of one of the richest families in Britain. Harry _would of_ called Draco a bad seed, but that would imply that his racist, elitist father and mother were any better.

_There she is..._

Calista was sitting towards the end of the Slytherin table, practically right next door to the exit. If you were to interpret her enthusiastic hand gestures and facial expressions, she was likely telling a funny story to the other Sixth Years adjacent to her. Harry could make out Pansy Parkinson, Millicent Bulstrode, Tracy Davis, and Daphne Greengrass all surrounding her, hanging onto the towhead's every word. Other girls were present, but Harry couldn't recognize them. Occasionally, Calista would pause to yell at an underclassman for one thing or another, and she would use her Prefect powers to confiscate whatever it was that was causing her trouble, or more likely, was something that Calista coveted but didn't yet have.

Since Voldemort didn't exist here, Harry would have to wait and see if this chick was just a petty bitch or something worse.

Turning around towards the Ravenclaw table, he saw Luna Lovegood sitting next to a chick that looked suspiciously like Ernie MacMillian. He couldn't hear their conversation amongst the dozens that were going on, but he was sure it had to have been weird. Harry pondered about walking up to her, and seeing if her conspiratorial mind had any useful info.

Harry felt a large hand suddenly grasp his narrow shoulder.

"How ah mah three favorite pupils doing then?"

Turning around, already knowing who it was, Harry came face to stomach with Hagrid, the same as ever, still bearing the omnipresent stupidly happy grin on his face. Harry had let out a small, tiny pipsqueak of a shudder when he felt someone touching him, but it seemed that Hagrid hadn't noticed.

"Just fine" said Harry, lying. "Got up in the morning, went downstairs, ate cereal. Typical Friday stuff."

"Thas' great to 'ear, 'Arriet! You're gonna love me class today. I'm finally going to introduce all you kids to acromantula's like I've been promisin'."

"Acromantula's?" asked Veronica, her entire skin tone suddenly paling. "Giant spiders?"

"Yeah! And I've brought the King of the acromantula's out of the Forbidden Forest today. His name's Aragog. Real old friend 'o mine."

"How did you become friend's with a giant spider?" asked Hermione, inquisitive.

"Well, I'm saving that story for class, so yer jus' gonna have to wait and see!"

Hagrid rubbed Harry's hair with his giant's hand(thankfully it was clean), and took off for the his seat at the head of the Great Hall.

"I'm totally skipping his class today" said Veronica out of thin air, looking like she was ready to throw up.

Harry watched Hagrid sit at the table next to Female!Snape, wondering just how he could have skipped out on being a woman. Perhaps Merlin's spell(the one Hermione brought up earlier) had only affected humans, leaving people with a non human biology like Hagrid immune to it. "Thank God" whispered Harry to himself. It just would have been _too_ weird to see Hagrid any different than he was now.

The chimes of Big Brunhilda(the name everyone gave to the giant cuckoo clock directly outside the Great Hall) began to sound, heralding that classes were ready to begin in ten minutes. Harry took a last few gulps of chocolate milk and got ready, as did Veronica and Hermione. First class was Potions. This was going to be a trip.

XOXOXOXOXOXOXO

Or maybe it wasn't.

What surprised Harry the most about the all-female classroom was how pedestrian it was. In the back of his mind, intellectually, he knew that girls weren't different from boys aside from their secondary sex characteristics, but he still carried with him an unintentional but eternally present mild sense of male chauvinism. In this case, he thought that the dungeon rooms would automatically be cleaner with no guys around. He lifted up one of his patent leather shoes and wrinkled his nose at the mud at the bottom of it.

A very nervous looking girl with big frog eyes and black braids rushed into the classroom with a minute before class time to spare. She took a seat a couple of rows directly behind Harry.

"Hey Harriet" said the out of breath girl.

"Hey" answered Harry, not bothering to turn around. He whispered towards the seat next to him:

"_Hermione, who was that?_"

"_Nerissa Longbottom. She's from another old-blood family like Ronnie is._"

"_Why wasn't she at breakfast?_"

"_Snape's been giving her two weeks detention for working on Herbology homework in class._"

"_That's good to know. I have a classmate named Neville who is the guy version of her. I didn't see her during breakfast and assumed she wasn't born here. Other world Snape is always failing him too. The only thing he's good at is Defense and Herbology."_

"_Defense?"_ giggled Hermione in a whisper. _"Nerissa Longbottom couldn't hurt a fly. Heck, she couldn't hex the broad side of a half baked giant."_

"One hundred points from Gryffindor for gossiping in class" said a disembodied voice.

"Huh?" exclaimed Harry, looking upwards towards the source of the sound. Affixed to the ceiling like mistletoe was the oily looking woman Harry had seen in the Great Hall. Her dark eyes and pointed chin were bowing towards Harry in a henceforth long cliched Snape looking scowl.

"_Oh crap_" mused Harry.

The woman slowly levitated to the floor, her robes fluttering in a non existent breeze as she finished. Female!Snape reminded Harry Potter of someone he hated possibly even more than her male counterpart: Bellatrix LeStrange.

"It's not nice to keep secrets. It's even worse talk about others when they are _right behind you listening_, Miss Potter. And Miss Granger, you should know better than your narcissistic friend here. Or then again, should you? Muggles don't have finishing schools for young ladies anymore, do they?"

Harry heard Pansy Parkinson giggling softly to herself.

"Don't flatter yourself Miss Parkinson, _none_ of you _ever_ mind your surroundings."

Snape continued her speech slash rant as she sauntered to the head of the room.

"You're all too busy thinking about _today_. What clothes accessorize best with the robes you'll be wearing, what new heartthrob you're currently soiling yourselves over, which unfortunate introvert will receive the daily bath in the lavatory. But not now. _Today,_ you will be learning the art of how to fly. Tell me, are any of you little tadpoles aware of the story of Peter Pan?"

A number of hands, including Harry's and Hermione's, were suddenly raised.

"How unfortunate. That fool J.M Barrie would have you all believe that mere happy thoughts can assist you in flying. Or the will to believe. Phaw! If that were true, witches would have discovered it centuries earlier. The truth is, only an enchanted item such as a broomstick or the potions we will be brewing in class can help one fly."

"Harriet Potter! If Miss Granger here weren't doing the thinking for you, what would be the first thing you would say would be needed to make a flying potion?"

Harry gulped hard. This year, he had been loaned a copy of the sixth year Potions textbook containing annotations by someone calling themselves the Half-Blood Prince. Harry hadn't solved the mystery of who the HBP was yet, but whoever it was was obviously a genius, or close to it, since every single annotation was superior to the actual instructions. Harry's potion skills in class had gone way up, but he didn't ever really memorize the book, and he was too reliant on it to make a good, _genuine_ apprentice potion maker. He was going to fail this question.

"I'm sorry, ma'am. I don't know."

Snape curled her lips.

"Miss Granger. What would be needed to make a flying potion?"

Hermione matter of factly quoted the textbook, like she always did, listing every ingredient that would help, and in what order. Smiling smugly, Hermione folded her hands on the desk in front of her.

"Correct Miss Granger. Please don't hesitate to plagiarize again in the future."

"In order to prevent any of you from picking up the slack from your less able fellow students, you're all going to be working strictly as individuals today. If I catch any sort of teamwork, you will get a week's detention with Filch. Your potion making time starts...now."

In retrospect, Harry might have to apologize to Canon!Snape once he returned to reality. While Severus was a bastard, he was a good professor. Female!Snape, however, was just a bitch. She made no attempts to actually instruct, preferring the sink or swim method of teaching. That might have been perfectly fine when teaching, say, swimming, it didn't do Potions students any good. And Snape _knew_ it. She did it out of spite. And today, her negligence was about to cause a three separate accidents.

A smaller accident was the harbinger. Deanna Thomas finished first, drank her potion bottoms up, and about two seconds later bent over in agony, vomiting her breakfast all over the floor. Snape cleaned the vomit up with a scouring charm and gave Deanna a big fat zero for the day. Mercifully, Deanna was allowed to leave the classroom afterwords.

Calista Malfoy concocted a half-assed potion that made her levitate a few feet above the ground for about ten seconds, the smile on her face couldn't have been any more smug. Then it made her deflate like a balloon. There was a brief scream, as if someone had shot her in the chest immediately before hitting her with a bus. A pile of skin, hair, cartilage, clothing, some mary jane's, and a soul to glue it all together was all that remained of her on the floor. Harry was reminded of a time back when he was twelve when the very stupid ex-professor Lockhart tried to heal the pain his broken arm by _disappearing the bones altogether_.

The skin, hair, bones... of Calista all slithered on the floor, like a particularly angry slug. Pansy screamed and jumped upon a long wooden table on the edge of the room.

Snape use her furnace as an emergency floo portal and sent Calista up to Madame Pomfrey immediately.

"The dangers of being a witch, my lovelies. Now back to work!"

Hermione's potion came out perfectly. She floated around the room, arms and legs stretched out Superman style, did a couple of backstrokes, and later, with no flourish at all, made a gentle landing back to earth.

Somewhere, maybe in somebody's mind, the Blue Danube Waltz was playing.

"Excellent work, Miss Granger. You have my permission to float outside in the hallway if you'd like."

Hermione obliged her superior, much as she didn't want to, and picked up her things. Walking by Harry, she whispered "not enough eye of salamander" before exiting.

Nerissa's potion blew up in her face, leaving her with ash on her face coming from... somewhere. She also had severe second degree burn marks on her face that had to be taken care of right away. She flounced outside the room to Madame Pomfrey's office.

Veronica's potion came out OK, although she eventually collapsed upon Daphne Greengrass' table and spilled _her_ potion all over the floor.

"Uh...sorry about that."

Snape deducted no points from Gryffindor house, the Weasley's embarrassing faux pas a harsh enough lesson.

The end of class looming, Harry's potion wasn't even close to ready. Snape was approaching her table. What was she going to do!? Harry didn't want to be stuck with Filch; he needed that spare time to figure out a way to get out of this strange place.

"Miss Potter, what exactly do you call this monstrosity?"

"I-I..."

Suddenly, the loud clanging noise of Big Brunhilda, magically amplified, was echoing from the hallway. That announced that it was time for students to move on to their next class.

"_Saved by the bell._"

Snape, in all of her infinite mercy, informed Harry that she would have to try out her potion for tomorrow's class...whether she wanted to or not.

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

The rest of the morning's classes went off without a hitch. Harry actually enjoyed seeing how much each professor changed to suit their "new" lives. Professor Flitwick, for instance, was now just a very petite woman instead of the actual little person that he was in the real world. She was real cute too, almost nymphish, thought Harry(a thought which kind of disgusted him upon further examination). Hagrid kept good on his word and brought out Aragog the giant spider for his Care Of Magical Creatures class. A long tale of intrigue and heroism followed, detailing the history and friendship of the acromantula with the friendly but oafish half-giant. The lesson of the class that day was not how to care for an acromantula, but to learn how to respect it's boundaries. If you left them alone, they would generally leave you alone too. Unless you wander into their home...something Harry and Ron learned at the end of their second year. History of Magic was a complete bore, as per usual, but Harry prepared for this and brought in a Quidditch magazine for him to read. Apparently the hottest team in this universe, fittingly, was the Holyhead Harpies. Hermione and Veronica passed notes to each other throughout, the former finally informing the latter about the "Harriet"s condition. Veronica was shocked at first, but in the span of forty minutes went through the five stages of grief all the way on down to acceptance. Veronica then passed Harry himself a letter informing him that her sisters had tricked her into thinking that she was a boy once too.

After HOM, Harry propped himself against the wall to look through his book bag. Taking a look at his afternoon schedule, Harry was surprised to see a name he hadn't recognized before. Teaching Defense Against The Dark Arts(DADA) was a certain Professor Cushing.

"Hermione, who's Professor Cushing? Is she any good?"

"Very, but Professor Cushing's a man."

"What? You said that only girl's could do magic here."

"They are. They're the students. He's the teacher."

"But how..."

"Harri, just because someone can't do magic themselves doesn't mean they're beneath you. Professor Cushing's been doing Defense at Hogwarts for over twenty years. He knows all of the tricks. Dumbledore would never allow him here if she didn't have faith in his skills. And he's a former vampire hunter."

"Yeah, really" piped Veronica. "He's totally not that bad. Malfoy gives him shit sometimes, but she _always_ fucks up when she doesn't follow his instructions. One time, she came super close to getting killed when he brought a live zombie into class."

"Don't tell me. Malfoy called her father up afterwords."

"Oh yeah" answered Veronica. "The Howler she got was the loudest one I've ever heard."

Harry smiled.

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

Lunch time- the greatest time of day for the lazy student.

"It's just really hard to believe is all. It's like you're E.T the Extraterrestrial. You're telling us that not only you're not just from a different planet, you're from a different reality _altogether_?"

"Yes, that's exactly what I mean."

"But Hermione just thinks you've been imperio'd or something."

"Yes, but I don't think that's true. It could be, but I don't want it to be. I like _my_ friends. No offense."

"Lex parsimoniae" announced Hermione.

"What?" asked Harry and Veronica together.

"Occam's Razor. The best explanations are usually the ones that take the least amount of extrapolation, or the fewest assumptions."

"I've had Snape use Legilimens on me, guys. I know when someone is doing something funky to my mind. If somebody _was_ tampering with _my_ memories, they'd have to be a helluva lot more talented at it than he was."

"Oh gawd. Could you stop using the male pronouns when you talk about Snape? She's creepy enough already" complained Veronica.

"I heard Katie Bell describe her as a flat-chested Elvira, Mistress of the Dark" gossiped Hermione.

Hermione and Harry had a good laugh. Veronica asked who that was, and was then informed.

"And if you're in Harriet's body, you think Harriet is probably in yours?" continued Veronica.

"That's what I'm hoping for, Ronnie. Law of Symmetry, y'know? I just have no clue how it happened. Voldemort might have something to do with it, I don't know."

"And who's this Voldemort chap again?"

Harry smiled. He was so used to hearing "You-Know-Who" from Ron, to hear it said out loud from Ronnie as just "Who?" was refreshing.

"He's the worst Dark Lord for hundreds of years. Killed a lot of people. Thousands. Split up his soul into a bunch of little pieces, and stored them in objects that make him immortal. He wants to kill or subjugate everybody who's not a pureblood."

"My goodness! I'm glad I don't live where you do" replied Veronica, taking a bite out of her fudge brownie.

"Harri, is Voldemort a meaningful name for this man by any chance? I think I've heard it before" asked Hermione.

"Funny you should ask. If you rearrange the letters in his full name, _Tom Marvolo Riddle_, it spells out to _I Am Lord Voldemort_. So yeah, it's an anagram."

For a moment, Harry thought he caught Hermione's eyes bugging out slightly, as if she had just realized something horrifying, but it subsided too quickly for him to really notice.

"So tell me about you guys. How did we meet? I mean, after the whole train incident with Malfoy. Hermione got me covered on that"

"Well, Harriet and I thought Hermione was kind of a bitch to begin with. She was uppity, and nosy, and wouldn't stop showing off. Even when we weren't in class! "_Hey Ronnie. I'm a muggle born, and I learned more about magic in three weeks than you did in eleven years._" One of us yelled at her, forget which, and during Halloween in our First Year, she hid in the loo during the big feast crying her eyes out. A troll got into the castle, we ran to the loo to save her, did, and we've been mates and a half ever since."

"Thank you, Miss Weasley, Junior Historian. Ever consider taking Professor Binns place when you grow up?" teased Hermione.

"How did a troll get in the castle?" asked Harry. In his world, the same incident had happened in his First Year. Professor Quirrell, working under Voldemort's orders had been the one who had let it in. This was a distraction so they could look for the Philosopher's Stone. But since Voldy wasn't around, who could have done it here?

"A Seventh Year named Aradia Penrose created the troll out of a pencil. She was slumming in the seventh floor halls, working on Transfiguration homework, and the whole thing just got out of hand."

"Wow" mouthed Harry.

"Yeah. She works in the Muggle world now. Through the grapevine, I heard she's working on making golem armies for some anarchists out of Pagford."

"Hmmf" was only sound Harry made then.

"What's Harriet like? Is she like me?"

"I'd say so" replied both Hermione and Veronica.

"Harriet likes to brood a lot. She's so broody that we think she should be a character in an Anton Chekov play" snarked Ronnie.

Harry wondered if that's what people thought of him.

"Why is she broody?"

"Harriet's very much abused, but legally, no one can do anything. Her parents were murdered when she was a baby. This- this madman killed them. Then she was taken in by her aunt and uncle. The Uncle treats her like total crap. He calls her a waste of space, and a freak, and a cornucopia of other insults because he doesn't like witches. Until she was eleven, she lived in a cupboard underneath the stairs."

"Can't she just run away?"

"Nope. She's still a minor. And she can't use the law against him either. Her uncle has too much money and some good attorneys. Her aunt is a little nicer than Vernon is, but she's ultimately an enabler. Harriet has a cousin named Dudley, and he's taken after his father. Dumbledore has tried to sort out matters a little more...directly, let's say, but she won't directly threaten them with magic."

"So she's like Cinderella without the happy ending."

"Yeah, pretty much so" replied a sullen Veronica.

"What about her Godfather? Er...Godmother."

"Godfather" corrected Veronica. "She has one named Sirius Black."

"Yeah! Him! He lives in London, right?"

"Yes, but Sirius is barred from ever seeing her. Uncle placed a restraining order keeping him one thousand meters away from him and Harriet at all times."

"What!? That's an outrage!" screamed Harry. "I'm surprised she hasn't just Obliviated the creeps out of anger."

"Doesn't work that way, honey. She'd go to St. Wendelins if she tried that. That's an asylum for juvenile delinquent witches."

"And I thought I had it bad" said Harry, resting his head down on Harriet's forearms.

"None of this makes any sense!" he whined.

A Fourth Year girl was watching the drama in display over at Slytherin table. She made some rude slash sarcastic comment that Harry didn't hear, and Veronica told her to go blow a penguin.

Hermione and Ronnie waited until Harry recovered from his mini-meltdown and gave him a group hug. The rest of Gryffindor table was now also watching the drama unfold in the Prefects corner. An adorable little First Year tried to transfigure her spoon into something nice for Harry/Harriet, but wasn't able to.

"We should probably talk about this...somewhere more private" sniffled Harry.

"Yeah" said Veronica. "Definitely."

The Golden Trio moved to a more secluded part of the Great Hall reserved for students who needed to be alone. A permanent Disillusionment Charm and a Silencio Charm shrouded the area, making it impenetrable to all but Dumbledore and the House ghosts.

"Am I cute?" asked Veronica. "I mean to say, is the guy version of me cute?"

"Well, wrong person to ask. I'm not gay, but Ron is a pretty handsome looking guy, sure. He's really insecure though. I'm the Seeker for Gryffindor."

"So is Harriet!"

"Right, but I'm the Seeker, and Ron is kind of insecure about it. He's not as good at Quidditch as he wants to be."

"Sounds like me. I gave up on it last year."

"I'm sorry, Ronnie. So is Harriet good?"

"She's great! She won the championship for Gryffindor in '94 and '96."

"Same here" boasted Harry.

"Really?"

"Really."

"Hey, listen Harri, I want to show you something. Meet the Weasley clan."

Veronica took off her chain necklace and opened up a tiny, heart shaped locket attached to it. Inside the locket was a miniature photograph. She handed it off to Harry.

"Here, let me enlarge that for you" said Veronica, bending over her. "_Engorgio_."

The locket and the picture inside it morphed to the size and shape of an 8x8 square print, the silver chain now hanging all kielbasa like on the floor. The picture was a portrait of this universe's version of the Weasley clan, as well as Harriet, all standing by the hearth during Christmas time.

"That's Mom, that's Dad, that's Mina, that's Charlotte, that's Portia, that's Winifred, that's Georgia, that's me, and that's Ginny. And standing next to her is you, of course. Seven daughters, all witches. No wonder Dad went bald early."

Harry laughed. The estrogen overload in the Weasley household had definitely taken it's toll. The female versions of Fred and George for instance were dressed extremely sluttily, "Winifred" cosplaying in a Sailor Moon outfit, and "Georgia" in a form fitting black mini-dress and thigh high black boots. Both were posing mock-flirty to the camera(how their mother let them do that...). "Mina"(which must be Bill, Harry supposed) looked like Tonks with her bright pink hair pulled into two loose pony tails, a nose-ring in addition to the earring that Harry always saw Bill wore in the real world, some animated tattoos, and a tomboyish swagger that fit her Riot Grrrl look. Female Percy looked like a very stern junior librarian, the types you see in soft core pornographic flicks that are seductive little minx's under all that frumpy book wear. "Charlotte" looked pretty normal in comparison; just as Veronica was an older Ginny, Charlotte was an older Veronica.

Molly and Arthur looked pretty much the same as well, though Harry noticed that Arthur looked a tad wrinklier and older than Molly did. A second later, he remembered that wizards have an extended lifespan relative to muggles.

"You stay with us all the time, Harriet. Every Christmas and New Years. My parents would for sure adopt you as one of our own if the Dursley's didn't want to keep you."

"When was this taken? Last Christmas?"

"Mmm hmm."

"Why do you have a black eye in the photograph?"

"I got whacked in the face playing Quidditch by Cunt McLaggen."

"Ronnie! What have I told you about calling her that?" demanded Hermione.

"It was a case of friendly fire, _I'm sure_", drawled Veronica.

"It's gorgeous. I mean...you're gorgeous, and so is everybody else. Do you have any other pictures like this?"

"I've got my family photos somewhere. _Accio family scrapbook!_"

After exactly ninety-three and a three-quarter seconds, a small meteor comes launching into the Great Hall and heading straight for Veronica. But like a champion quarterback, she catches it easily in her right hand. For crissakes, the force didn't even make her chair tip over!

"Here you go, Harri."

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

Herbology and Transfiguration were same old, same old, with no changes to the curriculum or geist of either class, Professor's Sprout and McGonagall being virtually identical in personality and temperament to the alt-u Sprout and McGonagall. But DADA surprised Harry. Professor Cushing was indeed a very good teacher, and was also a very spry, badass older gentleman to boot. In many ways, it was like having Batman in class. Not that Harry would know who Batman was, the Dursley's being unimaginative assholes and all. Something had given Harry the impression in class that Professor Cushing would be receptive to Harry's pleas for help that he was trapped where he didn't belong. Harry didn't give into this fairly strong intuition, being Mister Headstrong Tough Guy and all, but it was a feeling that he hadn't gotten over even during supper time.

"Guys, I think I'm going to head for the library for a while. Don't catch up."

Harry Potter put down his fork and fled the Great Hall before either Hermione or Veronica could answer.

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

"Well, at least you're still the same" said Harry to Madame Pinch.

"Pardon?" asked Pinch, looking up for her inventory of new books.

"I said you're just as great a librarian as ever!"

Harry took a beeline straight to the History section, ready to acquaint himself with the "that was the world that was". Somewhere along the line, Harry felt, he would stumble his way into some answers. His first choice was a book called "_Famous Witches Throughout History_" by Bathilda Bagshot. Finding a suitable desk to get cozy at, Harry flipped through the index, noticing a good seventy-five percent of the usual suspects, many of them gender-reversed, others omitted since they (presumably) didn't exist here. Dumbledore's biography was on pages 299-309.

Blah blah blah...child prodigy. Blah blah blah, twelve uses for dragon's blood. Blah blah blah...started teaching Transfiguration at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft in 1938. Became Headmistress of Hogwarts in 1956. That last part was somewhat interesting, actually, mused Harry. Harry had never really asked DD about his past, his life in general, or his opinions on things outside of Voldemort. It's almost like he hadn't been real, only an archetype of the wise but eccentric mentor. Merely skimming the official biography, which was mostly dry, he skipped to the Dumbledore Trivia section, titled "Occult Lore..."

"_Currently holds the Guinness World Record for drinking the largest malted milkshake on Earth."_

"_Has a perfect 300 bowling average._"

"_Favorite book is **Nine Princes In Amber** by Roger Zelazny."_

"_Favorite Beatle is Ringo Starr."_

"_Her name 'Alemeda' is Latin for 'ambitious', which fits perfectly for an alumni of Slytherin House like herself."_

"_Almeda Dumbledore was honored by the Queen Elizabeth II in the year of our Lord nineteen-sixty-two for defeating the tyrant Gemma Grindelwald, and she takes her title of "Dame" very seriously, to the point that she will insist, when the mood fits her, on being referred to as Dame Dumbledore instead of her given name of Almeda. Do **not** call her Double D or D-Squared."_

For all the hype surrounding Grindelwald, Harry had never learned that much about him. In those rare moments where he paid attention to Professor Binns in class, the old ghost never mentioned anything past nineteenth century goblin politics even _once_. Harry knew how tradition based the Wizarding World was, but man, did it annoy him sometimes. He flipped through to the index once more, finding the bio of this world's Grindelwald on pages 586-599.

_Synopsis: "Taking place in almost perfect synchronicity with the rise of the muggle Italian Fascists, the German Nazi's, the Imperial Japanese, and the corrupt U.S.S.R, Gemma Grindelwald's reign of terror upon the Witching World has yet to be equaled. Committing patricide and shortly afterwords matricide on her parents when she was but eighteen years old, Grindelwald's thirst for dominion over others was practically written in the stars. In fact, it was. Her natal chart is very similar to Adolph Hitler's, with a predisposition towards theatrical will to action and great communicative skills. Gemma Grindelwald was not only a star pupil during her time at the Durmstrang Institute, she founded and headed the entire production of several self-written plays that were well received during her tenure there. If she had stuck with play-writing, we perhaps would not have the eyesore called Nurmengard to pollute our precious green Earth, nor have to recount the horrors of mass fields of bodies choking the..._

Harry heard a slight cough coming from two rows down.

"Hermione, I told you not to follow me."

"Sorry. Am I that bad at sneaking up on people?"

Hermione came out of her hiding space and found Harriet huddled over a book. Usually, it was the other way around.

"You're better where I come from. In our third year, you had a Time Turner that you used to take extra classes with, and we never ran into any other time displaced yous even once."

"I remember that!" said Hermione. "I mean, that happened to me, too. I had to stop using the bloody thing since I was developing insomnia. But anyways, Harriet, I came here to tell you that I've scheduled an appointment for you with Headmistress Dumbledore. It's tomorrow night at 8:00 P.M."

"Why, Hermione?"

"Duh, Harriet. She's the only person who can help you out. She won't reject your story straight of way, and she's the only witch with the resources to do something as advanced as..."

Hermione was struggling to say it, finding the concept ridiculous.

"...as broach parallel universes."

"Yes. It's much easier to believe that your mind has been tampered with, but just in case you're telling the truth, I want to help you get back."

"Thanks, Hermione."

After checking out _Famous Witches Throughout History_ and couple of other books, Harry and Hermione walked back to Gryffindor House.

"So where did all the Fifth years go?" he asked.

"Hogsmeade. They _do_ have Hogsmeade where you're from, right?"

Harry giggled despite himself. "Yes, they have Hogsmeade. When are they getting back?"

"Late Saturday evening. It's an overnight trip, y'know? They're staying at an inn. Ginny is bunking with Michelle Corner from Ravenclaw."

Harry didn't really know Michael Corner real well, so his nerves weren't exactly calmed by that news.

"Is Ginny friends with her?"

"Oh yeah! Michelle is a very sweet girl. You're friends with her too. Er, Harriet is, anyway."

"Does it bother you that I'm really a guy? Y'know, sleeping in the same room as all of you?"

"No. Not at all, Harri."

"It's kind of a relief, really" she added sheepishly.

XOXOXOXOXOXOXO

Harry didn't have the guts to ask Hermione why she blanched when he mentioned Voldemort's name at lunch today, and how she could have known about it. When thinking the events over, he wasn't sure if she even did react suspiciously, or if he was just seeing something there because he wanted to see something. After all, Veronica hadn't reacted to the name at all, and Harry could tell just by her tone of voice(Ron always got nervous when he was lying) that she was genuinely unaware of such a man. Hermione(the "real" one) mentioned once the exact term for seeing patterns in things where there aren't any, but he couldn't remember it(Apophenia, Harry).

Walking past all of the canopy beds like ducks in a row(Lavender Brown, Nerissa Longbottom, Parvati Patil...), Harry eventually discovered the bed he woke up in this morning, where this nightmare all started. Ron was in the bed right next to him, and Hermione was two beds down, in between Danu Finnigan and Deanna Thomas.

"Ronnie snores just like Ron does."

"She's such a boy sometimes" whispered Hermione, grinning.

"Well, g'night, 'Mione."

"Good night, Harry. I hope you find what you're looking for."

XOXOOXOXOXOXO

When Harry Potter awoke the next morning, he noticed the sun filtering through his bedpost blinds. Harry was excited at the prospect of yesterday's gender bending unadventure merely being all just some very, very weird, possibly potion induced dream. _"I'm going to have that attempted rapist Romilda Vane arrested when I'm done with Voldemort..."_ Or at least he felt the possibility existed that he slided back into the real world. Yesterday he fell down the Rabbit Hole, like Alice, and last night he climbed back up from it. Things like that were known to happen in the Wizarding World. People just...disappeared, and reappeared randomly, at least twice a year, talking about unusual places that couldn't possibly be real.

He reached back and felt felt his hair. Still long and thick. Damn it. And he could still feel his breasts underneath the covers.

Getting dressed was less of a hassle(not mention less freaky) than yesterday. He was getting better oriented with Harriet's body and all of it's quirks, what with being slightly shorter, having a weight on his chest, and a lack of anchor between his legs. It was still _foreign_ to Harry, but less _alien_. All in all, when he thought about it, he had handled waking up in some strange girl's body in a parallel universe better than he thought he would have. If you had told Harry what was going to happen to him three days ago, on top of all of the other pressures of being the Boy Who Lived, Harry would've bet on black that his mind would crack.

"I guess I'm tougher than I give myself credit for" he whispered to himself.

Yes, Harry thinks out loud. Do you have a problem with that?

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

Harry thought up six things more impossible than his current predicament before breakfast. When he finally decided to go, however, he was hankering for some pancakes.

"Elves, you know me just fine" he said to no one in particular as he sat down next to Hermione and Veronica and found just what he was looking for, alongside some blueberry's and robin's eggs.

The owls flew in from the Owlery, delivering everyone's morning mail. Veronica's mom and dad sent her a letter, some extra spending money just in case, and some leftover cake from a friend's birthday party they just went to. Hermione also got a letter, a first edition of _Moby-Dick_, and some dental floss.

Harry received a postcard from the Dursley's, who were on vacation in Hawaii. Vernon's and Dudley's buddha bellies were overhanging their swim trunks, and Petunia was suffering a bad sun burn due to her pale complexion. Stamped on top of their photograph was a message in blood red ink:

"Glad You're Not Here."

Harry promptly ripped up the postcard into little pieces.

A second letter was enveloped in parchment, with a wax seal.

"_Dear Harriet,_

_Just a gentle reminder of our appointment tonight in my office. 8:00 P.M sharp._

_Love, AD"_

Harry faced the teacher's table, seeing Dumbledore's armor piercing, brain and heart melting smile directly pointed at him.

He noticed that Malfoy wasn't present, so he figured she must still be in the infirmary. Another topping on his sundae.

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

Classes were once again, same ole', same ole', so let's just skip them. By some happenstance, Harry's flying potion ended up working just fine, although it tasted _horrible_. Harry wondered how that could be when it hadn't been completed, but there you go. Harry suspected an inside job. Maybe Dumbledore, the Good Witch of the North, pressured Snape, the Wicked Witch of the Who Knows Where, to cook one up for Harriet in secret and let bygones be bygones. At least he hoped so, because that's about as nice as either Snape could or would ever be.

Just after dinner, Harry's euphoria subsided, and he broke down again, just in time for his appointment with Madame Dumbledore.

XOXOXOXOXOXOXO

"Open."

Harry opened the door to find himself in an exact duplicate of the male Dumbledore's office. All of the silver instruments cluttering Headmistress Dumbledore's tables were things that Harry immediately recalled cluttering the male Dumbledore's desk back home. That silver spinny thing, and oh! That silver whoosing thing! He recognized too the spitting image of Fawkes the phoenix sitting in the corner humming cheerfully to himself. Harry smiled. The innocence of animals was one proof that innocence

_did_ exist, and that he had a reason to wake up every morning. Dumbledore herself was sitting with her back to the wall, observing everything with a calm majesty(one might be tempted to call Dumbledore "stoic", but there was too much sense of an unconscious grin on her face).

"Miss Potter, I'm so glad you could take the time to see me. Your wise friend Miss Granger of course told me about the memories you have, believing that you are...how should I put it...displaced?"

"Y-yes" stuttered Harry, sitting down in the comfortable chintz chair that was facing Dumbledore. She really was gorgeous, for an older gal anyway.

"Explain."

"Well, for one thing, I'm not a girl. And neither are you. And neither are many of the people who go to Hogwarts. I woke up yesterday morning this way. But ever since I was born, I've always been Harry James Potter. My parents were James and Lily Potter. You're name is Albus Dumbledore. I have lots of acquaintances, few friends. The folks I had died when I was a baby, a one year old, by a Dark Wizard named Voldemort. But when I woke up, it turns out that the guy is actually a muggle! And he's not all ugly and snakefaced like he usually is! And everyone everywhere else is different! The only thing I can think of is that I slipped into an alternate universe or something. This is my body, this isn't my life, this isn't..."

Harry stopped once he heard his voice shaking. He didn't want to cry in front of this woman. She didn't come across as cold or uncaring(the opposite really, she radiated compassion), but Harry didn't want to be locked up or thought to be a nutcase like Luna Lovegood was. Before today, Harry had never even _considered_ that multiple worlds like his, albeit with little differences here and there, could possibly exist for real. It was quite overwhelming.

"Harriet, I give you my solemn word that none of this will be held against you. You're not going to go to St. Wendelin's any time soon. I know you aren't lying. I just want to be present to everything you can tell me. Is there anything else you'd like to share with me? Is there anything out of the ordinary that happened? You say this happened when you woke up. Would it be rude for me to ask what happened before you went to bed?"

"No. I can't remember anything unusual."

"Had you been reading anything, perhaps a science fiction book, regarding similar subject matter?"

"I...I was reading an old issue of _The Flash _before I went to bed."

"Ah...would the issue you were reading perchance be the classic _Flash Of Two Worlds_ story?"

"It was."

"And was this issue yours?"

"No. Ron Weasley, my friend, he gave it to me. He let me borrow it. His older brother Bill smuggled it to him from a comics shop in Dublin when he stopped by their house."

"When you say "Ron", you do mean your friend, Miss Weasley?"

"No, I mean my friend, my real friend, Ron Weasley! He and Veronica are essentially the same person, their sexes are just reversed. But just because that's true, Veronica's not necessarily my friend. I only met the girl today!"

Dame Dumbledore tilted her head melodramatically to one side, as if Harry/Harriet were an exotic creature she found in the forest. Or perhaps a very unique knitting pattern. Harry felt a slight tugging situation going on in his brain, not dissimilar to the pains he got from his scar, but not as painful. Uncomfortable, like when a dentist is working on your teeth. When she seemed satisfied with her analysis, Dumbledore titled her head back to it's normal inclination. A small tear could be found in the crevice of her right eye.

"Oh crap, she just read my mind!" thought Harry to himself.

"Yes, _Harry_, I did. And I'm so sorry about your life. I won't lie to you about my habitable invasion of privacy, or anything else you might object to in the future. _Ever_. I know you're telling the truth now. How very interesting."

"Headmistress, are you OK?"

"Yes, I'm fine. It's just...how profoundly sad your life is, Harry Potter. If I ever find myself in the same room as the male Dumbledore, I would have more than a few choice words with him. How he manipulated you. How close you came to dying all those many times. We of course have evil witches here, but if your memories are correct about Voldemort, thank the gods thank that the Tom Riddle we have can't use magic."

"I will never tell a lie to you, Harry. Would you like to shake on it?"

Dame Dumbledore extended her hand. Harry noticed that she had many differently carved rings on her fingers with either runes or gemstones adorning them, and a strange looking bracelet on her wrist.

"Is this an Unbreakable Vow?" asked Harry. "Don't we need a witness for that?"

"Of course, if it will make you feel better. Fawkes, come here please..."

"You're not going to have Fawkes be the Bonder, are you?"

Dame Dumbledore laughed. It was a rich and fruity bellow, not unlike that of a hobbit.

"What gives you that idea, Harry?"

Harry sighed in relief.

"Sorry! You see, back in my world, Dumbledore had a reputation that he's gone a bit mad in his golden years, and I..."

Dame Dumbledore cut him off.

"No Harriet, what gives you the idea that Fawkes isn't a reliable Bonder?"

"My dear girl, Fawkes is the most trustworthy person that I have ever known. If human beings are corrupt and fallen, and lions are lazy, and snakes are evil, and owls are pretentious snobs, what does that make the noble phoenix?"

"Er...noble?" replied a slightly squirming Harry.

"Yes! Yes, indeed! Phoenix's are immortal. They have seen everything, they have had many masters, they know more than us. They are above the ramshackle riff raff adorning the human condition. They care naught for our politics, our lives, or our souls. They are the true neutral."

"But...er, he doesn't have a wand."

Dame Dumbledore laughed once more.

"They don't need one! Now come here, Harriet, and let us hold hands."

Fawkes produced a loud rhythmic noise. Two ropes made up of thin golden strands of pure magic began to tie themselves around both Dame Dumbledore's and Harriet's outstretched paws.

"I...I can't" said Harry, letting go of Dame Dumbledore's hand and thus breaking the spell.

"I've learned that sometimes a man has to have secrets. He can't be completely honest, or else he'll be too predictable."

"Very well, Harry. I understand. And it's understandable you don't trust me. You don't trust the _other_ Dumbledore. I assure that I'm nothing like him. Or any other wizard you've encountered."

Dame Dumbledore steepled her long, bony piano fingers on her cluttered desk.

"Harry, would you humor an old witch and listen to her prattle on about history? I promise to not be any more boring than Professor Binns."

"OK, sure. Shoot."

Harry began to learn that contrary to his own world, this world's magical population wasn't centered around absolute secrecy. Witches, fantastic beasts, Azkaban, and illnesses that could only be caused by(and cured by) magic were all well known, if not to the general public, to the Muggle governments worldwide for a long, long time. The Muggles and the Witches(and their families) were all free to be in contact with one another without fear of getting persecuted or Obliviated, and there was serious political cooperation between the two camps in many respects. For example, Muggle men who were married to witches, as well as any son or father of a witch, was allowed to participate as an equal in the Witching World's form of government, and they as well as any male or female squib could get any job that they wanted outside of government(and witches could get most jobs in the Muggle world so long as they surrendered theirs wands until the workday's completion). There were many magical barriers and laws put in put place designed to protect muggle rights, and vice versa. But here's the rub: just like in Harry's universe, the concept of blood purity as well as bigotry against magicals existed in rampant, disgusting amounts.

On one hand, many witches resented having to be seen as equals, not just because of the obvious power differential between them and ordinary folk, but also because they saw men(the "lesser sex") as being a corrupting influence. Radical Feminism had been established and deeply rooted within the Witching World centuries before Muggle women ever thought of it thanks to the achievements of the Four Founders. Although this had a mostly positive effect, there were some negative side effects. Various cults embellished the Founders as goddesses of magic, denying the mountain of historical and archeological evidence that there had been male wizards at some point in time. Some witches even went as far as to suggest that Merlin was a woman. According to these anti-intellectuals peddling pseudo-history, Geoffrey of Monmouth's misogyny and privilege prevented him from recognizing the talents of a female. Not that this made any sense on any level(the very flattering portrait of Morgan le Fay in the _Vita Merlini_ would discredit it alone), but it was a popular belief.

On the other hand were a multitude of hateful Muggles. Among these legion were the typical religious nuts who thought that magical women and their families were allowing Lucifer into their hearts, the fearful paranoid who felt intensely threatened by witches and their powers, and last and definitely least, the plain vanilla bigots who thought that anything out of the ordinary was "freakish" and/or "stupid"(among many other, more offensive slurs). They too had their "theories" about the nature of magic and magical people, thereby obstructing any real science from being done, and therefore any real understanding. Ain't humanity grand?

"But how did the public find out?"

"How else? We told them. We're not the same as where you're from Harry Potter. We don't Obliviate people unless we have to. Muggles have the same right to hate us as we do to not care about it."

"But what about my parents? And how will I get back home? Hermione said you're the only one who could help me!"

"Well, Harry, I..."

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

Harry returned to Gryffindor tower to find a large conundrum of Fifth Years back from their trip to Hogsmeade. In the gaggle of new faces, many of which Harry didn't recognize, he some someone he definitely _did_.

"Ginny!"

"Harriet!"

Ginny ran straight towards Harry, nearly knocking his skinny, girly frame over, gave him a big sloppy hug, and began to kiss him. A kiss which soon applied for citizenship to France.

"Whoh, coming on a little strong there, Ginny."

"What do you mean, Harriet? You're my girlfriend. That's what we do."

TBC


End file.
